


The Man With The Crooked Spine

by cocoa_the_maniac, ladyofpride



Series: All good things, you deserve [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, and Harrison is definitely a liar, and Harrison is definitely not a good person either, liars will lie, possible coercion, sex on the sly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3554390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocoa_the_maniac/pseuds/cocoa_the_maniac, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofpride/pseuds/ladyofpride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he stops to consider all the things he’s accomplished in his life and how they’ve inevitably changed him, Harrison would openly admit that he has developed a remarkably flat character over the years. That is, to say, that despite the complexity he portrays to the outside world, there’s really only one overwhelming identity at his core: </p><p>Harrison Wells is an unspeakably <em>cruel</em> man...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man With The Crooked Spine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> A/N: This story stems from the fact that I really do believe Harrison Wells is a "bad man". Despite the many arguments I've heard so far about his apparent concern for Barry Allen, he's still a selfish man at his core. And a particularly angry one at that---you can clearly see it in his demeanor whenever someone annoys him on the show (i.e. General Eiling, Tess Morgan, etc.). He has the power to eliminate his enemies; he's practically chumping at the bit to use it.
> 
> And in case you're wondering, **poetryofearth** , this is _still_ not the other fic I was referring to earlier...
> 
> PS: Yet again, no one has beta'd/edited this for me, so I apologize for any mistakes that might crop up. Feel free to flay me, if you will. I don't mind criticism when I know it's earned.

Given the short time that Harrison Wells has known Joseph West, he’s determined that there are really only two sides to the man:

On the one hand there is _The_ _Detective_ , the hardened soldier of an urban war. Years spent matching wits with the scum of this city has left him with a straighter spine than most men his age, and yet this perpetual chase hasn’t in any way exhausted him to point of cold indifference. He is a tough fellow to be sure, but not at all unkind—compassionate to a flaw, some might even say.

Truly, nowhere in Central City could you hope to find a better man.

Harrison knows his type well. Although Detective West is, by this same reasoning, the sort of person who cannot be bribed, this doesn’t necessarily imply that he can’t be _beat_. Putting Iris’ life on the line has demonstrated that fact perfectly. But then, that was the nature of all good men, now wasn’t it? They would always put their loved ones before their duty.

It’s easy to see how Barry takes after the man in this respect. Not that the boy isn’t a benevolent soul to begin with, but considering the trauma he experienced in his youth, it’s truly a marvel that he didn’t turn out a little more…well, _bitter_. In fact, had Barry been delivered into the wrong hands following the incarceration of his father, Harrison firmly believes that there’s a good chance Barry might have fallen into the same footsteps as one Leonard Snart…

This, of course, brings Harrison to the other side of Detective West:

 _The Father_.

One would think that any sane man would balk at the idea of raising a child entirely on his own, let alone another. After losing his wife and having to coach his daughter through her own grief, no one would blame Joe for letting Barry slip away into oblivion. The detective’s only _real_ duty, after all, was to see Nora’s murderer safely behind bars, and so that very well should have been the extent of his involvement with the Allen family.

Yet, he took Barry into his home without hesitation. All the tears, all the nightmares, all the little escapades to Iron Heights prison on the sly—Joe endured it with the saint-like patience of a man who only knew too well the anguish that could be borne of a broken heart. Gradually, he would wear away at the boy’s anger, smothering the flames of that hatred with human kindness. It would be a slow process but it would work, and Barry would turn out all the better for it.

A classic recipe for success.

Quite frankly, Harrison thinks it’s a little pathetic.

He often wonders what would have happened if he had invited a young Barry Allen into his home instead. Harrison has always been financially secure, and at the time of Nora’s murder there was no one in his life to occupy his attention. He was a ‘philanthropist’ according to his colleagues; a truly outstanding citizen to all outside appearances. Perhaps then he could’ve started the transformation sooner—could have taught Barry the key to succeeding in life, how to manipulate his surroundings to his advantage…

They could’ve made the Flash together.

It’s a foolish notion though, because Harrison has already done the math for that vein of reality. Given all the ways in which he can alter Barry’s life, interfering with it at an earlier stage than he already has would have had a detrimental effect on the future he’s so desperately trying to achieve. After all, the compassion that Barry adopts from his foster father is a crucial human weakness he’ll require to survive his looming crucible. Without it, he cannot be broken down by Harrison and subsequently made anew, a _real_ force to reckon with…

That is not to say he doesn’t care for the boy. Harrison wears many masks, each more intricate than the last, but this doesn’t imply that he is completely void of emotion. Quite the contrary, in fact. His anger can be all-consuming at times, his fears debilitating—and he has known a grief unlike any other, the sort that settles at the bottom of the soul and rots its way slowly up into the brain, an infection that cannot be cured.

But he has also known love.

That love is dead and gone now; Harrison doesn’t know if he can ever love like that again. When he looks at Barry, he feels something akin to it tugging at his heart strings, but he can never be entirely certain, because every time he is overwhelmed with this familiar sensation it is inevitably poisoned by lust.

He has grown sick with it, this crippling desire.

It has become impossible to look at Barry now and not _want_.

~*~*~

When he stops to consider all the things he’s accomplished in his life and how they’ve inevitably changed him, Harrison would openly admit that he has developed a remarkably _flat_ character over the years. That is, to say, that despite the complexity he portrays to the outside world, there’s really only one overwhelming identity at his core:

Harrison Wells is an unspeakably _cruel_ man.

He’s reminded of this fact one particular night as he’s wandering through the halls of S.T.A.R. Labs, leaving behind the warm cot in the back of his office to speak briefly with Gideon. Technically, it’s 2 in the morning and he’s the only person roaming the facility, but he’s learnt well enough by now to always exercise caution with his wheelchair. Too often Cisco has dropped by unexpectedly, all nervous energy and sleep mussed hair, citing divine inspiration for his sudden appearance.

Tonight this caution pays off once again, though in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Five paces from the threshold of his private room he finds Detective West lurking in the shadows, looking perfectly composed but for the slight crease at the corner of his eyes.

Harrison wonders briefly if he should offer some form of salutation, but thinks better of it as Joe quietly sizes him up. Whatever it is Joe has come here to say, Harrison has a feeling he won’t be pleased by it.

Ever the strategist though, the detective decides to starts off their conversation on a milder note than he is anticipating, voice steady and low as he asks, “Any chance Barry is here? I’ve been trying to call him for the last hour.”

Harrison folds his hands neatly together over his lap, elbows braced against the armrests of his chair. Then he smiles sweetly, because this is the easiest of lies, one which he practices virtually every day. “He’s merely working off a little steam, I believe. A brief run to Starling City and back again is pretty much his idea of an evening ‘jaunt’.”

“He’s been pushing himself lately,” Joe replies softly. There’s no evidence of hostility there, but Harrison has been surprised by the man before.  “You as well, it would appear. You always up this late?”

Harrison knows the makings of an interrogation when he sees one, and it frustrates him, just a little. He thinks they’re a complete waste of time, because contrary to what the military _might_ think, Harrison has successfully never told anyone more than he’s wanted them to know.

Irritation aside, Harrison’s smile doesn’t waver. He’s had to deal with General Eiling and his domineering personality for god-knows how many years. Fielding Joe’s questions is a cake-walk in comparison.

“When inspiration strikes, I rarely find the time to sleep,” he says by way of an explanation. “I crash in my office for a couple of hours at a time when it gets to be too much. That usually seems to keep me going. Given your profession, I’m sure you understand.

“True enough.” This earns him an uneasy quirk at the corner of Joe’s mouth. “Although I can’t help but wonder what seems to have inspired you tonight.”

“The prospect of time travel.” This is at least partially true. He solved that mystery _eons_ ago, but watching Barry try his hand at this particular puzzle has proven to be quite entertaining. “It’s a dangerous thing, tampering with time…but I think if anyone could handle the responsibility of that power, I would bet my life on Barry Allen.”

Detective West nods in acquiescence, gaze falling to the floor as he loses himself momentarily in thought. He looks proud and worried all at once. A little tired almost.

A little _old_.

Then just as suddenly his whole demeanor hardens, jaw clenching, hands curling unconsciously into fists at his sides. Harrison knows this stance all too well—he’s adopted it himself many times before, but knowing that doesn’t necessarily prepare him for what he hears next:

“I don’t think Barry should try to save his mother.”

Harrison opens his mouth to speak, but no words are forthcoming.

Stunned, he snaps it shut again.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t known this exact conversation would rear its ugly head sooner or later, but this is a discussion he thought he would be having with Cisco or Caitlin _long_ before Joseph West. Given the detective’s perseverance in finding Nora’s murderer and the overwhelming support he has had thus far for Barry’s new stint as a vigilante, Harrison is honestly having a bit of trouble understanding why the man is suddenly trying to put the brakes on their little operation.

Moreover, Harrison is confused as to why Joe is having this conversation with _him_ of all people. Usually Barry tells him whenever he’s had a Flash-related argument with his foster father but has said nothing as of late to indicate that Joe was having second thoughts about his prospective sojourn into the past. Either that meant Joe had only just come to this decision in the last couple of hours, or…

Or Joe didn’t want Barry to know that he was having doubts.

Despite this little surprise, Harrison isn’t entirely worried. Eiling could never bully him into backing down once his mind was made up. Neither could a beat-up cop.

Barry Allen was destined to fail his mother.

Harrison would see to that.

Feeling a bit like Barry’s more sensible father figure at the moment, Harrison decides to wade right into the rapids by asking outright, “Is Barry aware of your concerns?”

“He’s been thinking pretty much the exact same thing,” is Joe’s curt response, although his answer comes a little too quickly to be entirely true.

“Given the remarkable changes Barry’s been forced to endure since the accident, I think the boy is entitled to doubt himself every once in a while, Joe…But that’s not what I asked.” Tilting his head ever so slightly to the left, Harrison repeats himself slowly. “ _Is_ Barry aware of your concerns?”

The corner of Joe’s jaw twitches tellingly as he crosses his arms. It’s a defensive pose to be sure, but the way he glances briefly down before fixing his gaze on Harrison suggests that he’s already had this conversation with himself. “When Barry was growing up, I never believed him about his mother. He’s had to endure my disbelief for _years_ , so I think the last thing he needs from me today is more criticism.”

Harrison’s smile tightens, because _now_ he sees where this is going. “I take it then that you expect me to have this conversation with him instead? —You want _me_ to be the bad guy?”

“You are the bad guy.”

Harrison can’t say that he’s surprised by that statement, but a slap in the face is still a slap in the face, and Detective West’s blatant skepticism of his motives has really been getting on his nerves as of late …

“I think you flew too close to the sun when you built your accelerator and now you’re repeating history with Barry,” Joe finally spits out. Harrison almost feels like wheeling away before the man has a chance to _really_ get into his diatribe, but he’s admittedly too intrigued by the fact the detective—openly suspecting that Harrison is _The Enemy_ —would be so bold as to reveal the full extent of his doubts right here in front of him. “This Man in the Yellow Suit—I don’t know if he’s aware that his unusual speed allows him to waltz through time, but I _do_ know that he`s out to get my boy. If Barry decides to turn back the clock and save his mother, I’m concerned now that this creep is going to follow after him.”

“To kill her, you mean,” Harrison replies. “What you’re implying here is that the reason Barry’s mother dies is essentially _because_ Barry delivers him to her?”

“It’s a possibility, isn’t it?”

It is.

In fact, Joe has no idea how close he is to the truth.

“This is why I need you to discourage him from going back.” Gradually, Joe relaxes his stance; uncrosses his arms. It’s just a ruse, of course. Harrison can still see the fire in his eyes. “I think that once he’s helped you round up all these ‘ _metahumans’_ , you need to stop trying to convince him that his powers should be used to serve a greater purpose. Barry doesn’t _need_ to be the Fastest Man Alive. He just needs to be _Barry_.”

“Barry will always be exceptionally fast,” Harrison mutters. He really didn’t understand what Joe expected him to do about _that._ Telling Barry to sit still for the rest of his life certainly wasn’t going to work.

“But he doesn’t need to fight crime in the process.” Joe takes a half a step forward. Despite this small shift in his position, Harrison now has to crane his head back to focus properly on the man. “I was a fool for thinking it would be okay to let him do my job for me, but Barry’s too young for this. He’s not one of my officers, and he’s not one of _yours_ either, which is why you should shelf whatever plans you have for him and start the slow process of distancing yourself from him.”

“I don’t have ulterior motives for Barry,” Harrison scoffs. “Anything— _everything_ I’ve done since the night of the explosion has been for him.”

“ _That’s_ a lie if ever I heard one.” Joe inches a little closer. “I know your type—you’re the sort of man whose first concern is always his own well-being. And a man like that? I don’t want him touching my boy.”

 _‘Too late for that,’_ Harrison thinks to himself, particularly amused by the man’s choice of words. Instead, he says, “Barry isn’t exactly a child anymore, Joe. We could bicker about this until we’re blue in the face, but the decision is ultimately his to make.”

“He has a great deal of respect for you though, doctor. If you tell him has a shot at bringing the dead back to life, he _will_ believe you.”

“ _Joe_ …” Harrison warns, feeling the heat of his frustration prickling at the nape of his neck, the urge to strike the detective down welling up inside him.

The urge to tell him the _truth_ is stronger yet. How satisfying it would be to see the blood drain from Joe’s face as he told him why Barry _really_ couldn’t answer his phone, that a little over an hour ago that dear boy had crawled into his office cot with him, eyes full of adoration and pity—pity for the _cripple_ , the brilliant scientist that had been shunned by society, the man who had changed his life forever…

Pity is Harrison’s plaything, really, because it is pity that ultimately stripped the clothes from Barry’s body. It is pity that persuaded Barry to straddle his mentor’s waist and set himself upon the painful business of losing his virginity, thighs trembling, hair soaked with sweat, eyes gently fluttering opened and closed as he rode Harrison off into blissful oblivion…

Harrison thinks he should probably feel disgusted with himself for tricking the boy into bed with him, but he honestly can’t be bothered. Barry had initially come to him because he had been distraught, and so Harrison had suggested a brief jog between cities to clear his head. Barry had returned however with tears in his eyes, chest heaving, explaining to Harrison between gasps that he believed his nemesis might be right: that Barry Allen was always doomed to fail.

Harrison would never admit this to anyone, but Barry is truly stunning in his grief. Any paternal feelings Harrison might have had for the boy were blinded by his lust in that moment. He wanted to contain that body, that _power_ , to crawl deep inside and never let go. He wanted Barry to know that they were cut of the same cloth, that they were meant to work together, that no one else in the universe could understand Barry or his sorrow like he did…

Perhaps he had acted in haste by sleeping with the boy, but Harrison was never one to let an opportunity go to waste. He had snuck out of bed to speak with Gideon about this exact predicament, half worried that drastic measures would have to be taken to set the timeline back on track, but sitting through Joe’s little lecture now, all the while knowing that he had recently fucked the man’s son, any regrets he might have felt earlier are now completely forgotten.

“I know you don’t have the highest opinion of me,” Harrison finally replies after he’s had a moment to compose himself, “but please believe me when I say that Barry’s well-being is my greatest concern. I’ll tell him that attempting to travel through time is not worth the risk, but you will eventually have to have this conversation with Barry yourself if you really want to drive the message home.”

Joe seems to be openly impressed with how quickly Harrison managed to wind himself down, although thankfully he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he says, “I will…but I firmly believe that he needs to hear it from you first.”

“Whenever I see him next, I’ll be sure to tell him.”

Joe gives a little nod, though he doesn’t look entirely convinced. Given the iron resolve that they both possess, they know that this problem is far from over.

This end of this discussion will have to wait perhaps, because suddenly Harrison can hear the man’s cellphone vibrating inside his left jacket pocket. Joe looks mildly annoyed when he glances at the caller ID, but it doesn’t carry over into voice when he eventually says, “Hello?”

Harrison’s powers do not include the ability to detect any sound whatever the decibel, but given Joe’s age it’s no surprise that the volume is just about cranked up to the max. As such, Harrison can easily hear the tiny voice of Detective Thawne on the other end as the younger man responds with: _“We have a bit of a situation at the precinct. How soon can you get here?”_

“Twenty minutes,” Joe murmurs into his phone. “Why?”

 _“Lance Carrington_.”

“…Say no more.” Joe’s eyes flicker up to Harrison’s face, finger swiping over his phone to hang up.

“Duty calls?” Harrison inquires before the man can even ask. Internally, he is quite relieved by the interruption. Matching wits with Joe wasn’t exactly how he had intended to end the evening.

“I’m afraid so.”

“As soon as I see Barry, I’ll remind him to check his phone.”

Joe’s smile is tight. “I’d appreciate that, doctor… You have yourself a good night.”

Harrison returns the smile. “You as well, detective.”

Joe tilts his head politely forward before pivoting sharply on his heel. Harrison sits there patiently, hands still folded over his lap as he watches the man retreat down the long corridor and around the corner at the far end. And he continues to sit there for a little while longer, waiting until the man’s footsteps fade completely into the distance.

Once he’s certain that the detective is well and truly gone, Harrison wheels himself over to his concealed room. The moment the door shuts behind him, he rises out of his chair and tosses his glasses back onto the seat behind, almost as though the disguise had physically burned him.

Sometimes, being forced to portray such _weakness_ is more than he can bear. It’s necessary in ensuring Barry’s trust in his imaginary compassion for the human race, but he’s doesn’t quite enjoy having to rein his powers in. He could slay his collective enemies in a heartbeat, if he so desired. He could bring the wholegoddamn world crashing to his feet…

But it would all be short-lived without Barry’s support.

Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose and counts back slowly from 10. Usually, he can keep his temper under control, but tonight…god, _tonight_ …

After he’s managed to collect himself, he approaches his AI and says, “Gideon?”

Bless her, the woman doesn’t need to be told—she shows him the newspaper without saying a word, ultimately putting his fears to rest:

_‘Flash missing—vanishes in crisis.’_

…and the red sky fades with him, away into the aethers.

Any tension he might have carried into the room completely dissipates when he sees those two articles. If all else should fail, _this_ future is something he cannot afford to lose.

“Thank you, Gideon,” he murmurs quietly, shoulders slumping with relief. “That is all.”

The hazy image blinks out of existence as he turns back toward his chair. Until he had encountered Joe, he had actually considered getting a little work done. Now, he just wants to wheel himself back upstairs and crawl back into that warm cot.

Taking up his seat again, he decides a little celebration is in order.

He figures he should wake Barry up for another go.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I find that sometimes I wind my ficlets down too quickly. If that's so, feel free to let me know. I will probably come back and edit this piece again in a couple of days.
> 
> Anyhow, thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it. :)


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